


Side B

by toewsyourheart



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Retirement, Summer Vacation, Ultimate Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toewsyourheart/pseuds/toewsyourheart
Summary: “There’s jizz in the pool,” Patrick announced unceremoniously, when he could speak again without sounding too winded.“Not a problem,” Jonny murmured softly, smiling against Patrick’s bare skin. “It’s self-cleaning.”-Or, Patrick and Jonny are freshly retired and finding their way, so, naturally, Jonny renovates the backyard.





	Side B

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Summer Fest thing. Absolutely shameless, post-retirement fluff.
> 
> Inspired by Travel Channel's Ultimate Pools. Sooooo dope, for real.

Jonny rarely did anything halfway. If there was something in front of him that he deemed worthy of his undivided attention, he pursued it genuinely, vigorously, his focus and passion unwavering. Patrick knew, maybe better than anyone else, what it was like to see it in action, to feel the weight of it. 

He got used to it, as much as one can get used to something like it, as their lives were irreversibly intertwined, professionally and personally, for closer to two decades now than just one. Extremely personally; romantically, intimately. There was nobody else, outside of himself, that Patrick knew better. Still, he was frequently reminded anew that Jonny’s dedication to excellence knows no bounds, no matter what he's doing. 

It wasn't surprising, exactly, but comforting, to know that some things faithfully remain, even in times of constant, unsettling change. Whether it was pursuing a new role in the organization, taking out the trash, fucking and being fucked by Patrick on every available surface of their new home, or, to be even more specific, renovating their unfinished backyard, Jonny didn't shirk the details, thoughtfully doing as he sets out to. 

Patrick should've known, since it's kind of a big deal, that Jonny would want to get it all just right. 

Their first real home together, a quiet, cozy six-bedroom house tucked into a shockingly spacious corner at the rear of their subdivision. The drive back into the heart of the city is a total bitch, but the privacy of a family neighborhood was enough to sell them on the commitment, after weeks of touring places that just weren't quite right. The one they chose, in Patrick's humble opinion, was perfect, cleanly designed while retaining some of his flair for the extravagant amidst Jonny’s inclination toward a sleeker, more modern look. It's the kind of place Patrick could see himself growing old in. The thought of that, the mixture of anticipation to see what life after would bring for himself and Jonny, and the visceral pang in his chest at the thought of leaving the game behind for good, shook him to his core the day they signed the papers. 

 _Their first home._  

The plan was always to end up here, in something with a more permanent feel to it, after the spotlight dimmed and the roar of the crowds fizzled out, as much as they wished it would carry on forever. 

“When it's over, it's just gonna be us,” Jonny had said, the night before the first game of what they both, at the time, regretfully suspected would be their final season of play. He didn't say anything, then. He couldn't. 

Seventy-two games later, Patrick did his last laps at the United Center alone, with twenty thousand-plus loud in the stands—family, friends, and strangers alike. When he got to the locker room, he could still hear them in his head, a deafening sound slowly fading at the edges. Patrick never wanted to forget it. 

Jonny was waiting for him there, with an unfortunate twenty fewer games under his belt on the year, fresh in his suit with red, tear-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks. They weren’t quite able to go out as they came in, with youthful energy and an insatiable hunger in their eyes, side by side, but still, Patrick felt a healing peace beneath the fearful ache at seeing him. Finally, he was able to answer Jonny, over the lump in his throat. 

“I'm ready now.” 

Jonny knew what he meant and nodded, resolved. 

And so, with one chapter coming to a close, another opened, and the contents of the two apartments they bounced between over a number of years to ward off suspicion, combined into one home. Patrick, surprisingly, got to keep his red chair in the move, stashed deep in the basement memorabilia room as it may be. It did wonders for the whole look, arranged in perfect symmetry, between framed team photos of their four Cup wins. 

The chair to complete the room was a small victory to seal a long war fought and won, one for the record books. 

It was the last to be situated before the yard became the only glaring opportunity for improvement in their new, shared residence, in their forever city. It stood out as barren, underutilized, and Patrick should've known, when he saw wheels begin to turn, that it was part of the appeal for Jonny from the start. 

A project, something he could make his personal mission to fix, to dedicate his time, resources, energy, and inspirations to. 

“We could get a pool, maybe?” Patrick had suggested, offhand, as they stood staring at the empty patch of land together. Jonny didn't answer for a moment, visibly contemplative, until— 

“Can I?” 

“You don't want my help?” Patrick challenged as Jonny quirked a smile, his mind already ahead to what could be, if his face was anything to go by, dark eyes surveying all he had to work with. 

“I’d rather surprise you,” Jonny answered, and suddenly, Patrick was convinced he would rather be surprised, too, even though, on a fundamental level, he wouldn't consider himself a pro-surprise kind of guy; the uncertainty and waiting makes him generally uneasy, but— 

“You do know what I like,” Patrick voiced the obvious, and Jonny’s smile grew warmer, more determined. 

“I do.” 

+ 

Jonny spent longer than Patrick thought necessary brainstorming, careful to keep his ideas and blueprints a secret, like he could maintain that standard throughout the entire process. 

“Jon, you know I'll be able to see everything out the window, yeah?” Patrick pointed out one afternoon as he was making sandwiches and smoothies for them both. Lots of natural lighting was a must-have for Jonny, so the entire yard-facing wall of the kitchen is, essentially, made of clearview windows. Sitting at the island, Jonny furrowed his brow as if in his tunnel-vision, the thought had never really dawned on him. 

“Guess I'll have to trust you not to peek then.” 

“You can trust me to pay for some sweet blinds,” Patrick countered, suspicious of his own willpower even with them. Jonny sensed it, too. 

“Maybe we’ll travel some while they're finishing up?” 

“So you can micromanage over the phone?” Patrick said, fondly. Jonny’s commitment to seeing things through until the end is hardly a character flaw, but it's endlessly entertaining to see his reaction to being teased. 

Jonny's cheeks flushed a pale pink that Patrick wanted badly to touch, but his hands were busy with lunch. 

“C’mon, I'm not that bad.” 

“If you say so,” Patrick grinned, with an unspoken promise to do all his touching later. 

+ 

He wasn’t, actually, that bad. 

When ground first broke, Jonny was involved in regular conversation with the designer, checking on the crew once or twice per day, but mostly, he seemed content to let them do their thing under his casual supervision. Patrick wasn’t privy to any of it, of course, and in truth, he didn’t really want to be. The whole thing seemed way out of his depths. Who needs a full-fledged design team for a fucking pool, anyway?

Patrick didn’t dare say it out loud though, because Jonny had that look in his eyes, a refreshing spring in his step each afternoon when he came in that told Patrick all that mattered: He was in total control, working with purpose, and loving every second of it. Patrick was happy to give him that freedom, and whatever else he wanted at a time that was, admittedly, a little frightening for the both of them. 

They were informed that the beginning of the end is the hardest, figuring out what to do next without the promise of preparation for the upcoming season. There would be no upcoming season for them, not in the way they were used to, and without the other, the initial transition might’ve been more difficult to navigate. As it was, they clung to each other and took each day as an opportunity to grow closer, to try something new, to explore interests they never had much time for before, to relax. Retirement wasn't the first major adjustment Patrick’s had to make with Jonny by his side. It won’t be the last, either, and there’s comfort in that, just as there’s comfort in Jonny, a man of his word. 

When mere digging progressed to construction, structures taking shape after concrete poured, Jonny started packing their bags, according to plan. 

“I think you’ve seen enough,” he said, on the eve of what turned out to be a month-long trip around North America. 

It began in Buffalo, much to Patrick’s delight, to visit his parents, his sisters, and his new nephew, Timothy. Holding him was surreal the first time, tiny and fragile as he seemed. He's crawling now, and Patrick felt a strange longing in his chest, watching him scoot places, watching Jonny scoot with him. 

His parents have never asked about children from them, because it's not traditional in the way they're used to. They took long enough to come around to the idea of him being with Jonny, Patrick assumed they crossed grandchildren from their eldest son, grandchildren who would carry on the Kane name, off the list of possibilities. 

Patrick's not sure he's done the same. 

- 

Next, they traveled to Winnipeg to see Andreé, Bryan and David, his new wife, Casey. It was a brief stop on the tour after a warm welcome, and from there, Jonny nearly convinced Patrick they were going to fucking Alaska of all places, before he, thankfully, produced tickets for a plane bound elsewhere: Bozeman, Montana. 

“You wanna go to Yellowstone, huh?” Patrick guessed, idly wondering if Jonny packed their hiking gear, or if they would buy more once they arrived. Before Jonny, Patrick never even needed hiking gear, so the prospect of acquiring double had him quietly amused. 

“Guilty,” Jonny said, then, “That okay?” 

Patrick took his hand. “Anywhere is okay.” 

It was breathtaking. Clear, blue skies cut by vast, snow-capped mountain ranges that seemed to stretch on forever. Hot springs. Quiet streams trickling alongside well-worn trails, cool and clean enough from their origin, Jonny said, to drink. Abundant wildlife: elk, bison, bear, wolves, and white-tailed deer… It was an outdoorsman’s paradise. Patrick could see how much Jonny loved it, his smile widening as he drew in slow, deep breaths of fresh air. 

“We could get a place up here,” Patrick suggested carefully, one night as they gazed up at the stars from the porch of the little ranch shack Jonny rented. The evening was cool, and the sky, so open and limitless, gave Patrick a tingly, hopeful feeling about their new beginning. The stars weren't visible like that in Chicago. It brought new perspective to his recycled, worrisome thoughts. 

“You like it that much?” Jonny asked, surprise evident in the subtle lift of his voice. It was so peaceful out, so quiet, and nobody within two-hundred miles could so much as guess who they were. 

Who they _were_. 

“You do,” Patrick said instead, deeply satisfied with Jonny’s bashful smile, then, with a sly grin of his own, he shrugged, “And I like you a decent amount.” 

Jonny took his hand. “Never would’ve guessed.” 

- 

From there, they traveled to California. Napa Valley, specifically, to do some vineyard touring. The wine all tasted the same to Patrick. Terrible. Jonny was charmingly invested, though, in deep discussion with Val about his place, appropriate food pairings, and most importantly, how he knew that developing a winery would be his thing after retirement.

“When you know, you know,” Val said simply, and even though Patrick thought it was a fairly weak answer, Jonny nodded very seriously, as if to store the advice for a rainy day. 

“What's your thing, Jon?” Patrick asked that same night, after Jonny took him for the ride of his life. He, miraculously, came twice, and in his post-coital relaxation, thought he would ask, thought Jonny might be loose enough to talk about it. 

Jonny rolled over to tuck himself into Patrick’s side, buried his face in Patrick’s neck, and gently kissed the sensitive skin there. 

“You.” 

- 

It wasn't until they were lying on a beach in Cabo that Patrick thought to ask about the yard, as he was kept on a strict, need-to-know basis. 

“Hey, babe?” he started, curiously. 

Silence. 

Patrick glanced over to find Jonny sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest giving him away, if the discarded book and straw hat pulled low wasn’t indication enough. 

“Jonathan,” he said, louder, to no avail. It was his idea to come to the beach. Patrick wanted to say in bed. Jonny can sleep when they’re dead. 

So, in a moment of sheer bravery, Patrick got off his lounge chair and went to Jonny’s, carefully straddling his lap, a knee on each side of his monster thighs. Patrick worked to slow his rapid heartbeat, to tamp down his nervousness over people seeing them like that. He’s not afraid or ashamed of who he is anymore, and what they share is everything to him. But without their careers to hide behind, it was just—different, more than what he was used to openly showing people. 

“Wakey, wakey,” Patrick whispered, sliding his palms over Jonny’s bare chest, smooth and muscled. Beneath him, Jonny stirred, and in his half-conscious state, brought his hands up to rest on Patrick’s thighs. 

“Well, hey there,” he mumbled, smiling drowsily, adorably. “Your chair wasn’t cutting it?” 

“I like your lap better,” Patrick said, leaning down to kiss him, since rules of old no longer applied. Jonny kissed back, hands easing to Patrick’s hips to hold him tight. 

“Mmmm, me too,” Jonny encouraged. With a hand to the small of Patrick’s back, he tugged him even closer, snug against his body, to punctuate the point. “I could get used to this.” 

Patrick didn’t ask for clarification, because he knew what Jonny meant. Having everything out in the open is what Jonny—what they’ve both always wanted. Unfortunately, it had to come at a price.

Instead, Patrick got to his point. “How’s the yard?”

Hesitance.

“Jonathan.”

“It’s finished.”

“Finished?!” Patrick squawked, “Why didn’t you say? Why aren’t we there?”

“You love Cabo,” Jonny shrugged, as if it never once occurred to him to interrupt their trip, even if the very reason for its existence no longer stood in the way. Patrick kissed him again, because sometimes Jonny’s so good and thoughtful, Patrick’s overcome with it.

It was one of those times.

“Let’s go home,” he sighed, and Jonny flexed his fingers against Patrick’s skin, a low, contented rumble in his chest.

_“Home.”_

+

Patrick expected a pool—a big pool, with a slide or something, maybe, and some patio furniture. They were pedestrian thoughts, a disservice to what Jonny had planned, to what Jonny had created.

When Jonny uncovered his eyes after carefully guiding him outside, and said, “You can look now,” Patrick gasped, staggered back a step into Jonny’s chest.

Jonny, helpfully, wrapped his arms loosely around Patrick’s shoulders to steady him.

“What the fuck?” Patrick said, in the best way possible, wonder and surprise in his voice.

It was like nothing he had ever seen in a backyard, not even his own in Buffalo, which was pretty awesome, before he sold it. It felt, instead, like the resort in Cabo they left behind. There were too many things for his eyes to take in, the barren place he'd once known completely transformed, beautifully lit with torches and stringed lights in the quiet dusk of the evening.

The immaculate patio beneath their feet, stained and outfitted with plush lounge chairs and tables for outside lunches or hosting parties, carried forward until it ran into crystal clear water that seemed to taper onto land like the ocean, shallow at first. It didn't touch the wood, upon closer inspection, some sort of drainage mechanism recycling the moving water back into the ground just before.

That wasn't even the most impressive part. The rear of the pool was stunning, something akin to a giant, rocky mountain at its edge, flat on top of the structure, clearly meant for jumping off into the deepest part of the water. Inside, there was a deliberate cave carved into stone, and from Patrick’s vantage point, it was hard to tell how much space it enclosed. It reminded him of Montana, and the soft, quiet springs trickling over rock. To the right, closer to the house, there was an upstep that led into a round hot tub, steamy and bubbling, accessible from both the pool itself and the patio. Like the hot springs, Patrick thought.

Jonny brought their trip home.

“Jonny, I—”

“What do you think?”

Patrick thought too many things at once to say. To the left, near the portion of the yard that still remained green with bermuda, was a raised slab of granite, circular like the hot tub, but bare, aside from a tasteful rendition of the ‘Hawks logo—just the feathers—at its center.

“What’s that?” Patrick asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Jonny huffed a laugh, and Patrick couldn’t see, with Jonny behind him, but it was the kind of sound he knew was often accompanied by flushed cheeks.

“It’s a yoga deck.”

Patrick’s mouth dropped open. “You’re going to—do yoga—there?” 

“That’s the plan,” Jonny replied, and Patrick groaned, warmth permeating his middle. What a show that would be: Jonny, half-naked and sweaty, bending and stretching all sorts of ways, right there on display for Patrick to watch.

“Fuck me,” Patrick breathed out, and Jonny laughed again.

“I’d love to,” he murmured, turning Patrick around to face him, hands trailing the length of Patrick’s arms to twine their fingers together. “What do you think?” he repeated.

“It’s amazing,” Patrick said, for lack of a better word, overwhelmed. “I—You’re fucking amazing, Jon. Everybody’s gonna freak, the boys are—”

Patrick stopped himself and dropped his gaze. It was a hard thing to get used to.

With a finger beneath his chin, Jonny lifted his face to meet his eyes again, smudging his thumb over Patrick’s lower lip, and smiled, a bit wistfully. Instead of saying anything to draw more attention to Patrick’s lapse than necessary, Jonny kissed him, slow and sweet with a hint of tongue, the promise of more. 

“We can still have them over,” Jonny said eventually, “I’m sure they still like us.”

“Maybe,” Patrick mumbled. He saw it all clearly: A core reunion. The Sharps, Seabrooks, Keiths, Crawfords, and Hjalmarssons. Their teammates. Their best friends. Most deeper into retirement than Patrick could have ever imagined for himself. It was now their reality, too.

“You know…” Jonny trailed off, wrapping a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck, massaging. He sounded uncharacteristically apprehensive, in contrast to his usual sureness, his insistent confidence regarding his opinions and desires. 

“What?” Patrick pressed, stepping into him.

“I left that part grass on purpose,” Jonny said, nodding to the part of the yard left untouched by the overhaul. “In case we wanted to do a concrete slab for ball hockey, or something. 

_Something._

Patrick searched his eyes, pulse racing at the thought of where Jonny’s thoughts were taking them. He felt on edge, so close to plunging into the depths of something big, a revelation.

You can say it, Patrick thought. You can.

Instead, Jonny cleared his throat, and the moment passed. “We should try out the pool, eh?”

It wasn't difficult to pick up on the force it took for Jonny to make himself sound casual, but Patrick didn’t push it, okay to move at Jonny’s pace. The day, he knew, had been fairly warm, but the evening was chilly, and the thought of getting into that water made him shiver.

“Do you want me to freeze my nuts off?”

Jonny scoffed in a way that told Patrick that he had, yet again, underestimated him.

“I had more solar panels installed to heat the water,” he explained, beaming with satisfaction and pride. “Should be the perfect temperature. Besides—” Jonny pulled him chest to chest, voice dropping an octave, “—I’ll keep you warm. 

“Oh yeah?” Patrick said, winding his arms around Jonny’s neck. It was so easy to push up on his tiptoes for a kiss, deeper than the first, building. Patrick felt Jonny’s fingers at the hem of his shirt, inching beneath it.

“I want you,” Jonny breathed against his mouth. “Let me show you.”

Patrick raised his arms in silent consent, heart beating wildly in his chest. Jonny wasted no time lifting his shirt up and off, and diving back in, his hands out to touch all of Patrick’s newly exposed skin.

Patrick scrambled for his, refusing to be the only one half-naked. “We’re not wearing trunks,” he pointed out, as if it mattered, once Jonny’s broad chest and shoulders were bare to him. 

“That’s the idea,” Jonny said, unhooking Patrick’s belt, making quick work of the zipper. “Nobody can see us back here.”’

“Like you'd care if they could,” Patrick replied, an illicit desire shooting through him. Though not as unfazed by nakedness, by being looked at as Jonny, somewhere deep, Patrick wanted it, too. 

“C’mon,” Jonny urged, toeing off his flip-flops, and in one swift motion, shoved his pants and briefs to the ground.

Naked. Gorgeous. Patrick’s.

Patrick licked his lips, eyes roaming Jonny’s body from top to bottom, golden from being in the sun so much. They've fucked countless times, given themselves to each other in every way possible, but the unending need for Jonny has never lessened. He would give anything, do anything for him, and so, Patrick steeled himself, ditched the rest of his clothes, and turned to walk into the water.

It was, in fact, the perfect temperature.

-

Jonny followed him into the cave, and in its privacy, Patrick could let himself breathe again. It wasn't lost on him that Jonny knew it, designed the thing with him in mind.

The inside was the picture of tranquility, with a bench and sleek walls that matched the outside in color, not texture. Patrick asked about the discrepancy.

“If the inside was jagged, I couldn't do this,” Jonny explained, his voice a quiet echo as he pushed Patrick against the wall, his back hitting cool, smooth stone, a counterpoint to the warmth of the water. Jonny was indescribably sexy wet, shoulders speckled with clear droplets, chest flushed in his arousal. Slowly, he raised Patrick’s arms and pinned them above his head, then kissed down the length of them until he reached Patrick’s chest, flicking his tongue over stiffened, sensitive nipples, then sucking.

“Jonny, fuck,” Patrick squirmed, letting his hips rise in the water until he could wrap his legs around Jonny’s waist. “I need—”

“What?” Jonny coaxed, dragging his lips along Patrick’s jaw. “What do you need, baby?”

Patrick could feel Jonny’s cock, hard, nudging his ass. Then, instead of waiting for an answer, Jonny kissed him like his life depended on it, freeing his hands so he could touch, so Patrick could cling to him in return.

“Wanna make you come,” Patrick whined, and Jonny shuddered in his arms, driving his dick upward, along Patrick’s perineum and between his cheeks, again and again. He groaned, an unspoken plea for friction, and Patrick untangled his legs, turned around. “Fuck my thighs, Jonny. Do it.”

“Shit, Peeks,” Jonny cursed, sliding his arm around Patrick, across his chest to hold him, and did as he was told. Patrick stood just so to create a tight tunnel for him, and held on, reaching back to grip Jonny’s neck as he bit and sucked and kissed along Patrick’s. The sound of rapidly moving water and panted grunts filled the space, and Patrick closed his eyes, absorbing Jonny’s thrusts, the head of his cock bumping Patrick’s balls in perfect tandem with his hand on himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck,” Jonny chanted, “You like this, Pat? You gonna come for me?”

“You first,” Patrick said, because Jonny deserved it, after all this—his perfect planning, the flawless execution, and mind-blowing results. “You did such a fucking great job with this place, Jon. You always take care of me.”

“Yeah?” Jonny asked, voice thick and gravely, pumping his hips forcefully now, closer to his end.

“Fuck yes-s-s,” Patrick moaned, loving every second of that roughness, of Jonny taking from him what he needs—what Patrick so eagerly gives.

 _“Patrick,”_ Jonny cried out, all but plastering Patrick against the wall as he lost himself, driving in—in—in with his orgasm. Patrick sped his hand and nearly choked when Jonny found the presence of mind to reach between them and rub an insistent finger over Patrick’s hole, over and over, to help him get there.

“Oh my—Fuck!” Patrick gasped, slumping further against the wall as his dick pulsed in his hand, striping the tile. He was flushed, fevered with it, and the coolness against his cheek was soothing, welcome.

Patrick was breathing too loudly, he knew, but then again, so was Jonny. No training, it seemed, was catching up to them.

“There’s jizz in the pool,” Patrick announced unceremoniously, when he could speak again without sounding too winded, and Jonny chuckled behind him, gently kissing his shoulder. Once. Twice.

“Not a problem,” he murmured softly, smiling against Patrick’s bare skin. “It’s self-cleaning.”

Patrick turned in his arms. “You thought of everything, didn't you?”

“Pretty much,” Jonny said smugly, then, “C’mere.”

He guided Patrick over to the bench and sat, spreading his legs for Patrick to sit between them. He obliged, leaning back against Jonny’s chest, threading his fingers through Jonny’s where they rested, his arms securely around him.

The silence enveloped them, comfortably at first, easily. Patrick was relaxed, sated, the sound of water trickling down rock nearly lulling him to sleep. He turned his head to kiss Jonny, to find his brow furrowed, the peace Patrick found lost on him.

They were, suddenly, back in that previous moment, Jonny’s unspoken words hanging between them once more.

“What is it, Jonny?” Patrick pressed now, reaching back to cup his cheek. “You can tell me.”

“A swing set,” Jonny blurted. “That's what I was thinking we could put in the other part. Or a playhouse, for—”

Silence.

Patrick waited.

“I just don't want you to think I'm—It's not some hole I'm just trying to fill, because we’re not—”

“Jon, I know you. I would never think that,” Patrick told him before he finished, pained by the sadness in Jonny’s voice, the longing for days gone competing with his desires for the future. Jonny wouldn’t enter into something so serious on some half-baked whim. He wouldn't. “Never.”

“I've always wanted that—with you.”

“Wanted what with me?” Patrick asked, craving the words so badly. He turned in his arms, straddling his lap like he did on the beach. “Say it.”

Jonny’s fingers dug into Patrick’s sides, as if it were an outlet for the tension he felt. “To be a dad with you.”

Patrick felt the tears welling in his eyes, hopeful that being in a pool full of water would disguise them. He wrapped his arms around Jonny’s neck and crushed their mouths together, in a desperate attempt to convey his every feeling, every ounce of joy and relief, to Jonny.

Between kisses, Patrick answered him, “I want that—so much, Jonny. So fucking—much.”

“Really?” Jonny asked, pulling back, wide-eyed, like he couldn't believe it was that simple.

“‘Course,” Patrick said, refusing to be embarrassed when Jonny brought his thumbs up to wipe Patrick’s tears. “You’ll be the best baby daddy I ever had.”

“I better be your only,” Jonny said, brushing their noses together before kissing him tenderly, strong fingers kneading up his back and shoulders, into his curls. He never thought it possible to love someone so much, through everything.

“Always, Jonny.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed. thanks for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated! 
> 
> come find me @ [toewsme1988](http://toewsme1988.tumblr.com) or [seabsneckbeard ](https://twitter.com/seabsneckbeard)!


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